


Entering the Parlour

by Brb-Rope (yetiamwell)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Technology, Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Tentacles, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-21
Updated: 2009-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetiamwell/pseuds/Brb-Rope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Dib-human belonged to Zim. His rage, his passion, his ire, his attention. All belonged to Zim. No one else.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entering the Parlour

**Author's Note:**

> There are other fics I should be working on. This is what came out instead.

  
_"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the spider to the fly;_  
"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you may spy.  
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,  
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."  
-Mary Howitt, The Spider And The Fly

  
”Dib, Dib, Dib, Dib….” Zim shook his head as he hovered on his pak’s spiderlegs in front of the dangling human. “Poor poor Dib. What am I going to do with you?”

The human didn’t answer. At least not verbally. His gold-brown eyes drifted shut for a moment as he shuddered before opening his eyes again. But then it was rather hard to talk with one of the bases’ mechanical tentacles in one’s mouth. The tall lanky human was like a pitiful insect caught in a spider’s web, looping cables from the ceiling wrapped around his naked body, holding Dib precisely how and where Zim wanted him.

Zim smiled to himself, running one black gloved hand down the side of his prisoner, admiring the pale creamy coloured flesh and the few puckered scars that marked it. This one was from his pak legs, this one was from a falling on a fence in a fight with Zim, this flimsy thin pale one didn’t count, it was from _before_ , before Zim had arrived on this stinking mud ball, before Zim had met Dib. This one he made with his claws. All of them saying one thing over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The Dib-human belonged to Zim. His rage, his passion, his ire, his attention. All belonged to Zim. No one else.

Dib shivered at the touch, the skin bumping up in that strange vestigial way humans had. Zim watched a bead of sweat swell up with fascination as it followed the trail his glove had just traced. Pretty, in a crystalline pain-filled way. The human’s skin, when not sweat-soaked, was slightly oily, but pleasant enough to his dry Irken skin.

However, sweat was a painful experience. As were most of the human’s bodily fluids. Sweat, tears, blood, saliva, semen… All burned his green skin. Toxic. Acid. Poison.

It was like playing with fire. Dangerous, but irresistible.

Dib made a whining sound in the back of his throat, hips jerking in mid-air, drawing attention to his swollen reproductive organs which were a bright almost painful looking pink. A drop of clear fluid gathered at the tip and Zim smirked, reaching down and collecting the drop on the tip of his finger. The human arched into the contact, aiming for more and failing.

”Open.” He ordered, bringing his hand up. Dib did as he was ordered, jaw moving for a moment before the cable slid from his mouth, lines of saliva dripping from it. Zim allowed the human to breathe for a second, Dib’s open mouthed gasps echoing loud in the otherwise silent room, Dib’s golden brown eyes never breaking their gaze from his.

Zim waited until the human’s breathing evened out before holding his finger up. Dib opened his mouth obediently, wide pale pink tongue flickering out and cleaning his fluids off of Zim’s glove. Dib didn’t stop once he had licked the last of his taste off of Zim’s glove, he kept going, drawing Zim’s fingers into his warm wet alien mouth and sucking on them.

It took quite a bit of concentration not to start making his own pleasure sounds back at the human. Not yet, anyway. Zim had plans. Good plans. Delicious plans.

”Stop.” Zim commanded and Dib opened his mouth with a wet pop, releasing the suction on Zim’s hand. His hand tingled under the protective layer of the glove, in a pleasant way, in a way that had nothing to do with his flesh burning off.

Dib looked at him, his face daring. “More.” The human commanded, his hips thrusting helplessly into the air.

Zim ran his hands through Dib’s short strange black hair, revelling in the foreign texture. No other aliens he knew had such a thing as ‘hair’, much less in such strange random places. “Demanding, aren’t you?” He leered. Zim could withhold Dib’s pleasure for as long as he liked. He’d done it before, leaving Dib on that edge for ages, until the human was a pleading wreck.

While it was amusing to do so, it also left the human unconscious for a while, depriving Zim of his own reward.

Not that having the human, _this_ human, the Dib, at his mercy and obeying his commands wasn’t its own set of pleasure and reward.

The fact that he had Dib voluntarily at his mercy was still a novelty. He was long past the point of believing it was some sort of stupid human trick as Dib frequently initiated their encounters and gained nothing more than a great deal of messy human satisfaction from it. No battle plans, no secrets, no promises of fealty.

It had been a joke, at first. Someone at Hi-Skool had made a rude comment about Dib, aliens, and anal probes that Zim did not understand and therefore ignored. At least until his Dib-thing had turned bright red and attempted to slink off, holding his notebook folder at an awkward angle in front of him to hide the strange tent shape his pants were forming. The behaviour was suspiciously un Dib-like and Zim had stalked after, sensing a weakness.

Zim had not been expecting a stammering crash course on human sexuality when he confronted the Dib about the comment and had been promptly horrified when he understood it.

But not so horrified as to not to be intrigued by Dib’s blushing dark-eyed reaction.

”Please?” Dib requested, knowing precisely what buttons of Zim’s to push in order to get Zim to do what Dib wanted. At least, when Zim wanted it as well.

”Hmm.” Zim made a thoughtful sound, stroking Dib’s curved cheekbones, the flat line of his jaw, the softness of his lips. The glasses stayed on, always. He didn’t care if Dib couldn’t speak, but Dib’s gaze, that unusual intense shade of gold-brown, that belonged to Zim and only Zim. Dib was only allowed to look at Zim.

”Please, what?” Zim drawled, drawing it out. He knew what Dib wanted, what the human’s pale lithe body was craving. “There’s so many things Zim could do to your soft fleshy body.”

So many things he had done to the Dib-thing’s body. The first time hadn’t been the best experience, for either of them, awkward and clumsy, but it had been interesting enough that they tried it again. And again. And again. The human on his hands and knees, moaning like a Zeltron whore as he fucked himself on Zim’s fingers. On his back, legs spread wide like a fortress’ gates thrown open to welcome its conquering master. Suspended in mid-air, such as he was currently, the base’s cables contorting him any way that Zim chose, upside down if he wished. Fucking the human with hands, toys, cables, and one memorable time, his pak legs. Dib hadn’t been able to look at Zim’s pack for a week without blushing.

But always, always, Dib came at Zim’s command. At Zim’s touch, Zim’s voice. Dib’s pleasure belonged to Zim, as much as Dib’s pain and failures.

”Please…” Dib swallowed, the gold-brown of his eyes almost drowned out with the black of arousal. “Let me come Zim.”

Zim had Gir set up spy cameras in the human’s house, in the human’s bedroom. The cameras fed to monitors down in his lab, where he could keep an eye on Dib, for any plans or counter plans. He was still ferreting human spy equipment out of his own walls, so he didn’t feel terribly bad about any potential invasion of privacy.

Especially not on the nights that Dib pleasured himself in his room. The only lights in the dark room being the soft glow of the planets stupid single moon, or the many computer monitors around the room, casting Dib in an almost neutral light, washing out any strangeness of colour, leaving only lines of stark contrast. Zim could almost believe that Dib was Irken on those nights, taller than the Tallest, yet Zim’s, all Zim’s. A fantasy, but a pleasant one indeed.

The only thing better than that fantasy was the reality of listening to Dib come on those nights with Zim’s name on his soft human lips. It was almost as good as hearing it wrung from Dib’s body while under Zim’s hands.

Zim made a thoughtful sound. Last time had been harsh and rough, Dib’s hormonal teenage body recovering quickly as he came hard and fast, leaving the human literally limp from the experience. Zim had avoided penetration tonight for that reason, to let his human recover faster. Tonight had been about teasing light touches, keeping Dib right on that edge without letting him push over. Cruel, in a different way.

He touched one of the human’s strange pebbly nipples, a pleasant shade of tan, watching as Dib swallowed and shivered, another droplet of sweat sliding from his temple, down his cheek, across his jaw and starting to travel down his neck. Dib swallowed again, probably able to feel that single bead of sweat glide down his skin, as sensitive as he was at the moment.

”Please.” Dib repeated. Zim smiled and relented, knowing Dib would pay him back for this.

”Very well.” He agreed loftily, moving his hands where Dib wanted him, wrapping his fingers around the human’s erection. “Since it pleases Zim.” He smirked.

Dib groaned his appreciation, a soft keening sound in the back of his throat as his hips snapped forward, thrusting mindlessly. Zim smiled to himself as he watched his human strive for completion with single minded intensity. The human’s parental unit and sister could march through here right now and Dib wouldn’t notice. Or care. Not with his gaze locked on Zim’s crimson eyes, the only thing Dib saw right now.

As a reward, Zim moved his hand, adding a small twist at the top, paying attention to sensitive area where the head flared outwards. Dib made a sound like he was dying, mouth open and gasping like a stupid earth fish out of water. Zim reached back with his other hand, cradling the soft pouch, noticing the hot crinkled skin of the scrotum was already pulling up towards the body. He did one more twist of his hand and Dib shouted Zim’s name, warm wet white liquid splashing over Zim’s black gloves, the same temperature as human blood.

”Good Dib.” Zim purred, pleased. Dib merely hung limply in the restraints, breathing hard, not capable of coherent speech at the moment. Not that Zim expected otherwise. That was why their encounters were safe for Zim.

Zim was tougher, faster, more agile with an enhanced healing ability. He had the claws and teeth of a predator, unlike a human’s blunt nails and flat teeth.

But the human was tall, resourceful and smart. None of which came into play in Dib’s post-coital lassitude. It took a while for the blood to resume its normal flow and his brain to re-start. One of the reasons why Irkens had long since given up sexual reproduction. It left a warrior weak, defenceless. “Computer.” He ordered, stepping back and lowering himself to the ground again. “Clean up the human.”

”Ew.” The Computer grumbled, but did as requested. More cables appeared from the walls, soft round buffing ends whirring as they ran over Dib’s skin, cleaning the sweat and other liquids off of him, and covering his skin with a dry powder. Dib stirred slightly, shifting just enough to continue to follow Zim with his eyes as Zim made his way to the platform along one wall. It was a bed, of sorts. Long enough for a tall teenage human to lay out on, in any case. The Computer finished, carefully resting the naked Dib on his back on the platform.

Zim climbed up, stretching himself out along Dib’s torso, pressing the side of his head against the ribs. He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling himself relax. Zim’s turn now.

Irken were a hive-minded species, lots of them working together in close quarters towards a common goal. They lived, worked and breathed next to each other, constantly coming into close contact with one another. It was a consistant background noise, one’s pod-mates surrounding them.

There were no other Irkens on Earth. Zim was alone. And while communications with the Tallest helped occasionally, reminded him that he was Irken, not slowly morphing into one of the stupid wormy human flesh bags that occupied this world, but there was no substitute for the background noise of a living being or the casual physical contact.

Dib wasn’t Irken. Zim wasn’t entirely certain that he was a human worm-baby either, Dib didn’t act like the rest of the fools here, but he was close enough. Close enough that Zim could listen to the sound of another. The whooshing of the respiratory, pulse of the circulatory and gurgling of the digestive systems, he could hear them all. Feel the warmth of the alien skin, the pulse of the heart, the rise and fall of the lungs trapped under the rib cage.

Irkens didn’t physically require sleep either, the pak took care of that need. But the mind… even Irken minds needed to shut down a bit, to process everything. Usually this took seconds, micro-seconds, while surrounded in the safety and comfort of other Irken around them.

Zim had been on this mud ball for six of its years now. He hadn’t shut down for years previous to that, his mind always working at a high-pitched pace, never turning off, not for a second. Isolation did bad things to Irkens. It effected him, making him jittery, effected his work, his thoughts twisting off in different directions.

But here, like this, with the Dib lethargic and stripped of defences, Zim could relax, falling into a partial fugue state, his mind finally defragmenting, shifting through his accumulated thoughts and memories, shunting the useless data out of the way. He could feel his mind getting clearer. Here, he could think. Here he could _plan_.

Dib’s long form shifted under him, a long fingered hand just barely touching the side of Zim’s head, outlining the curve of his skull. Zim lay still, letting Dib touch him, the fingers drifting back up, to rub little circles at the base of his lekku. The antenna like appendages practically vibrated under Dib’s careful ministrations, tracing their thin black form to the sensitive tip and back down.

Dib craved acceptance. Someone who truly believed him, someone he could trust, someone who would not lie to him.

Zim saw no reason to tell falsehoods to the Dib-human. The Dib was the only one on the entire stinking mud ball who saw what he really was.

Zim craved control. Dib gave himself up into Zim’s clutches, stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and just let himself _be_.

If Zim was capable of love, he might have loved Dib for it.

Dib’s clever talented wormy-hands found the sides of Zim’s pack and rubbed the edge where metal met flesh, right where it itched occasionally and Zim let out a breath, his bones just melting. Useless contact, but craved almost as much as the rest. “When Zim conquers this planet, I’m going to take you to Sihnon and have you trained as a Companion.” Zim announced reverently. Dib certainly had the brains to be one, and had learned all of Zim’s sensitive spots quickly enough.

The Dib wiould like space. The beings there were not as stupid as humans. Most, anyway.

Dib laughed. It was a shy, almost breathless sound. “And when that happens, I’ll go with you.” The human’s tone was faintly mocking, the Dib didn’t expect Zim to do it. Zim hadn’t been able to do so in the past.

But the Dib didn’t know that Zim was thinking more clearly these days. Zim doesn’t need a Mega-Doomer or a complex plan. He merely needed a single missile, a single explosion, aimed in the right direction and then to sit back as the filthy idiot humans did the rest. They were stupid, with their petty squabbles and blaming each other. They had lots of missiles. All Zim had to do was to get them to use it.

He would allow Dib the honour of trying to stop Zim.

Of course, he could keep the Dib here, locked away safe in Zim’s base while bombs and explosives flew overhead and filthy worm-meats destroyed each other. But his Dib was a fighter and Zim would acknowledge that. Dib would attempt to stop it, using his meagre voice against the chaos. Dib’s progenitor was powerful among the dirt-maggots, the goggled-faced human might also try to stop it.

Which wouldn’t work if it was his weapon that started it in the first place. Zim grinned. Stupid Dib-Father needed better security.

Dib made a soft little sigh, his breath brushing Zim’s lekku pleasantly as the Dib began to drift into his recharge cycle, as innocent as a smeet. Falling asleep in the middle of his enemy’s laboratory, with his adversary resting on top of him.

It would be so easy, right here and now to rip out the Dib’s throat. The human wouldn’t feel a thing. But Zim would not. Because the Dib belonged to Zim.

And Zim did not easily let go of what is his.

Zim already had the missile, waiting for Zim to use it. Zim was waiting, scheming while he waited for the opportunity to present itself. Not yet, not yet, not yet. It was not yet volatile enough.

And in the end, there would be Zim, Zim triumphant, the spider in the middle of the web, watching the planet burn to ashes around him. The only thing he would save from this wretched Earth was the Dib.

He would protect the foolish Dib, from everything… except Zim.

-fin-

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>  _Sihnon - One of the planets where Companions are trained in Firefly_  
>  Zeltros is a pleasure planet in the Star Wars universe. Zeltrons are devoted to nothing but sex and pleasure.


End file.
